


The Registry

by ConsultandDetect



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-24
Updated: 2013-11-24
Packaged: 2018-01-02 13:45:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1057490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConsultandDetect/pseuds/ConsultandDetect
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This work is a (very) short, flash-fic fluff piece I wrote during class to cheer up a stressed-out classmate. It's a bit absurd and short, but it was fun to write. (And hey, it was definitely better than paying attention in poetry class!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Registry

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gibbytod](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gibbytod/gifts).



“Oh man, look at that baby! What a fine piece of machinery. She’s a beauty.”

Cas rolled his eyes as his fiance, Dean, tugged him in the direction of an electric blue KitchenAid mixer. “I knew this was a bad idea,” he muttered under his breath. Dutifully, he followed Dean through the busy Bed, Bath, and Beyond.

“Ka-ching!” Dean made sound effects as he ran over the barcode with the registry scanner. “Ya know, at first I was skeptical about this whole bridal registry thing, but this is pretty cool!” He gestured enthusiastically as he spoke, scanner still in hand. “Look! It’s like a ray gun!” He pointed it at Cas’ face. “BAM!”

Cas winced. “I’m still unsure in what respects you qualify as a bride.”

Dean flashed a smile. “‘Cuz I’m the pretty one,” he winked.

Cas stood, unblinking. “Dean, it is four hours past noon. We still have yet to visit the store of Crates and Barrels - though I’m still unsure why we need any crates or barrels.” He frowned.

Dean sidled over to his boyfriend and and slung his arm around the angel’s shoulders. “They don’t sell crates and barrels; it’s _called_ Crate and Barrel.”

“Then what do they purvey?”

“They... _purvey_ fine home goods and furnishings.”

Cas frowned again. “Dean, we live in a bunker, not a mansion.”

“Aha, that’s where you’re wrong. We live in a bunker now, but-” Dean broke away from Cas, monologuing. “Imagine: curtains on the windows, matching stemware on a shabby-chic dry bar, an enormous flatscreen TV, a kitchen fully stocked with every modern convenience.” He gestured dramatically with his hands, lost in his domestic reverie.

“Dean.” Cas’s voice brought him back to earth.

“What?”

“Everyone is staring.”


End file.
